"Yes. It might have led to psychic starvation. Shine was formed by those who remained in the ShadowNet. It's only in recent years that we've become powerful enough to chance tracing the others. We've focused our efforts on the marginalized children, those who need us most."
"Why?" Jon's tone was on the wrong side of insolent. "You might as well have pinned a target on our backs."
Dev's lips thinned. "We search because some of you need our help. Not all are 'gifted.' Some are cursed - we found one child dying because she needed the link to the ShadowNet, but her brain had lost the ability to search for it instinctively." His jaw tensed, eyes dark with fury.
"Another, a teenage boy, is a midrange telepath, but he was diagnosed as schizophrenic because he kept hearing voices and, according to his family tree, he's one hundred percent human. Those who scattered wiped their pasts so effectively that sometimes their own descendants don't know who they are."
It was too much information to process, but Talin had one further question. "What about changeling-Psy children? Why doesn't Shine help them?"
Dev shot a wry look at Lucas. "The packs closed ranks and disappeared the known Psy families so well, we don't have a hope in hell of tracing them. That secrecy probably saved their lives - then and now." Pure anger threaded through his voice. "What we are, what we've become, it's nothing like the Psy. We don't want to grab their power, but the Psy Council sees only evil because it is only evil."
Chapter 47
Hours later, Clay held Tally as they lay spooned on the futon they had made up on the first floor. The bed was taken - they'd brought Jon and Noor home with them. The boy hadn't said anything, but it had been obvious he wanted to be near Talin. And Noor went where Jon did. "They're asleep," he said.
Tally put her arm over his. "You can hear them from down here?"
"Uh-huh." Little Noor was snuggled up on a mattress on the second floor, while Jon had been given the bedroom, over his protests.
"Noor seemed happy with sleeping alone." She ran her foot over his calf, the affectionate act making him purr. "I figured she'd be scared - that's why I didn't want her at the top of the aerie."
"I think it's because she's in the middle. Hard for anyone to get to her."
"You're probably right. Jon's already so protective of her."
"Hmm." He kissed the curve of her neck. "We keep an eye on them they'll be okay. Look at us," he teased, "we tried damn hard to mess up something wonderful, but we made it."
She made a noise of assent, but said nothing else.
His leopard scented her quiet distress. "Baby, I can't read your mind. But I know you're sad."
"I wish...I wish I'd waited for you," she said without warning, her anguish so raw it crashed into him with the force of a tidal wave. "I know we're okay now, but I wish I could wipe out the past. I wish Orrin hadn't tainted me before we ever met."
"Don't." His voice came out harsh when he wanted to be tender for her. "Don't hurt that way. And don't you dare consider yourself anything less than perfect." God, she was sunshine and heart, light and beauty. How could she imagine he thought anything else? "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever dared to touch."
Her hand fisted against his. "But what about what I did? You must think about it," she insisted, voice thick with tears she refused to shed. "You must get angry sometimes."
"I did. Before." He'd been a fool, unable to see the truth. "Before I realized that you're mine and you always will be. No one, nothing, can come between us." Not even death. If she went, he would follow.
"How can you forget?" she asked in her stubborn, determined way, the same way she loved him. "You were so mad - "
"It wasn't easy," he admitted. "But I'm not stupid. I finally realized that what you did, the life you led, was what brought you back to me. If you'd become a good little Larkspur, you'd probably have married a farmer by now."
She gasped, obviously horrified. "I would not."
"No." His tone turned serious. "Because you were mine. You always have been."
"You're not angry anymore?" It came out hesitant, searching.
"How can I be angry with the other half of my soul?" he asked, his tone so tender it tore little pieces out of her heart. "I have a temper, baby, and I know I f**king brood. But even if I act pissed, even if I snarl, it doesn't mean I love you any less. Your soul shines, Tally, and I'm so damn glad it shines for me."
She felt a tear slide down her cheek at the unforgiving honesty of his statement. Somehow, he had achieved the impossible, made her feel young, innocent to the depths of her soul. "You sure can talk pretty when you put your mind to it." Her voice came out husky. "I am so glad you're mine - I know you'll always be there for me, that if I call, you'll come."
His arms grew tight and she knew he'd understood. Never again would she wonder if he would one day leave her. His devotion humbled her, made her determined to love him until his own scars were nothing but forgotten memories. Then he said, "Forever, Tally," and her heart broke.
"Clay, what if - "
"Don't say it." He squeezed her hard. "We'll talk about it after we see the specialists. The first appointment is tomorrow."
She bit his arm in a light reprimand, hearing his unspoken pain in the way he refused to discuss the subject. "Don't you dare shift again," she ordered, wondering if one lifetime, no matter how long, would ever be enough to love Clay all the ways she wanted to love him. "We can't ignore the fact that I'm sick."